


The Zombie Army has Descended

by phoenix_risen



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Friends reconnecting, I wrote this in two days so the ending sucks im sorry, Jeremy is a zombie, M/M, Zombie AU, bmc quarantine challenge, boyf riends - Freeform, but like super lightly near the end, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23507185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_risen/pseuds/phoenix_risen
Summary: And the period has completely ended.Jeremy is a zombie and Michael is a badass. Brooke is more of a badass than him, though.For the BMC Quarantine challenge!
Relationships: Jeremy Heere/Michael Mell
Comments: 1
Kudos: 40





	The Zombie Army has Descended

**Author's Note:**

> WC 9702
> 
> Prompts used: All main prompts, used Dying a year ago today, Kissing with masks on, Spam Loaf, A letter from a friend, Angels, no drone zone, Mary, and "rock stacks" (I realized to late that they're little snow men). also Jeremy is explicitly jewish!!
> 
> I managed to get +5000 words more than last weekend, AND I did 11 word wars.

It had been eighteen months since the apocalypse began.

Michael had always told himself that he was prepared for it, that with all his gaming knowledge he’d know what to do when the zombies showed up at his door.

Not so.

It was terrifying, the mass panic that struck. It was sudden, too; when the first reports struck, no one took it seriously. They thought the government would stop it, or doctors would find a cure. When the first hoard began in New York, and started killing en mass, that’s when the terror set in. People raided stores, each other's homes, hoarded weapons and hid. Michael’s mothers, being a surgeon and a microbiologist, were called on to the hospital as it was all hands on deck.

He hadn’t seen them since.

The one thing Michael had at first was Jeremy, and that… that didn’t last. He didn’t like to think about it. But at the very least, now he’d teamed up with someone. Having companions was what saved him. Extra pairs of eyes for zombies and supplies. It was interesting, as they chose the abandoned mall to hunker down in near the beginning of all this, and they were still there. It turned out to be a good place to hide, and it had tons of assorted items from the different stores. Hell, it even had bathrooms that worked until very recently.

Hiding here for a year and a half definitely depleted their resources.

That’s what they were trying to solve, now. Michael sat on the planter in the mall’s center, looking over at his companions in the fall. Brooke Lohst, former popular girl, was pouring over a map. The map was covered in red marks from where they’d already collected everything they could, and black for where the zombies were too thick to travel through safely. She had changed drastically from what she was like in high school. She shaved her head early on, not wanting to risk having her hair grabbed by anyone, zombie or human, that may have bad intentions for her. Her old yellow cardigan had been made into a makeshift backpack, with her opting for a tank top and a pair of men’s cargo pants she’d found at one of the defunct stores. More pocket space, she said. Rich Goranski was off to the side, holding a gun that used to be his dad’s and watching out for any dangers. His hair had grown out, now brown instead of his signature blond and red streaked style, and he wore a loose shirt to hide that he wasn’t willing to wear his binder anymore. It was too dangerous to his ribs, and while he still held onto it, it wasn’t something he was going to risk. He’d had the worst experience, in Michael’s opinion. The zombies had gotten into his house, ripping his father and brother to pieces. Rich only escaped because he had packed a bag and stolen some of his father’s guns and knives. He was ready to go anyway, but he often confided that he wished he hadn’t had to see it happen.

Everyone had lost so much, and it was so painfully hard.

“Okay, so I think I’ve planned our next outing.” Brooke broke the silence, pointing at the map.

“Oh?” Rich didn’t look over, keeping his lookout post.

“So, we should go out the back of J.C. Penny, and travel north past the no drone zone sign. It’s a little thicker with zombies, but that makes it more likely to have left over food and stuff.” Brooke dragged her finger along the map, tracing her proposed steps. “Since we finally were able to get past the gates into Gander Mountain, we have way more firepower than before. It won’t be a waste of our bullet stock if we’re able to find what we need, y’know?”

“Makes sense.” Michael said, nodding. “Are you going to take the lead today, then? You seem to know where you want us to be going.”

“I can.” Brooke shrugged. “I’m not the best shot, so I guess lead would be better. You guys can back me up.” She smiled a little, which felt a little off in such a dour situation. Michael smiled back, though. Little exchanges like that helped keep morale up. When everything was this awful, it was good to try their best to lift each other up. Everyone had lost so much, little moments of joy were all they had.

Michael took a deep breath and tightened the blue strip of fabric he had tied around his head like a headband. The fabric was from Jeremy’s cardigan, and it was all he had left of him. He held onto it for dear life. What happened to Jeremy was… Well, he didn’t actually know what happened to him. They were the ones who discovered the mall together, and they kept each other alive for the first six months, when things were still in hysteria. Until Michael failed him, he failed that job, as far as he knew. At the beginning, when Jeremy disappeared, he had tried his best to be a sleuth, a detective, and collect all the information he could in files. Any evidence he could find, he put in the files and kept those files in his backpack. Those were lost in a raid from another group, and it made him feel sick to think about. Everything that he had of Jeremy’s, save for the fabric he had tied around his forehead, was taken then. It was before he met up with Brooke and Rich, so there was no one there to protect him. No one there to comfort him as he sobbed over the loss. He tried his best to recover what he could from memory. The scene that he was left with, with a single bloody footprint from Jeremy’s worn out converse and very little else. The letter he had found afterwards, tucked away in his items. He, at least, remembered it word for word.

_ Michael, _

_ I’m so sorry. I’ve put you through so much, and now I’m doing this to you. What kind of friend am I? I want you to know that I’m not leaving because of anything you did, I’m leaving because I don’t want to hurt you. I was careless, and was bitten. I don’t think I’m strong enough to tell you to your face, because I know that now there’s nothing that could make me leave if you asked me to stay. It would be selfish of me to put you in harm's way, and I know I’m not strong enough to go if you asked me not to. I really wanted to get through this with you. I wanted to be with you for the rest of our lives. I wanted… Well, I wanted a lot of things for us, some of it probably unrealistic. But you know my luck and my decision making skills. They’re awful at the best of times. Just know that you were and still are my favorite person, and I’m glad you were by my side for as long as I lived. _

_ Love, _

_ Jeremy _

It tore Michael apart that he didn’t have these last words of his best friend anymore. It had almost been an entire year since that had happened, and he never told Rich and Brooke what happened. As far as they knew, him and Jeremy just got accidently separated. That way, when Michael told them that he was still looking for him, they didn’t think he was crazy for looking for…

Well…

A corpse.

“Mike?” Rich’s voice broke him from his thoughts. He looked over to see Rich looking incredibly concerned. He must have been making some kind of pained face, not that he meant to. “You okay over there?”

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. I’m fine. Just thinking things over. Wondering if Jeremy might be on the other side of the zombie area, actually.” He shrugged. Rich nodded.

“He might be, actually. We really haven’t been over there, and it would make sense that he’d still be in the area. I heard over the radio that the hospital is still completely unbreached, so maybe he got there.”

Unlikely. “That would be the best case scenario.”

“I’m so glad, of all people, to have some radio time, Christine Canigula is on there.” Brooke commented. “She’s really good at keeping things light. I could never, not now.”

“Yeah, seriously. Oh, Jesus, how could I forget! Michael, your fuckin’  _ mom _ was on the radio. You were out patrolling, but she was on super early this morning.” Rich shook his head at himself. “God, I’m an idiot, I’m sorry. But she was talking about cure efforts. No luck yet, but they’re working on it.”

“Oh jesus, thank god.” Michael dragged his hands down his face. “I was starting to get worried, the last time she was on was, what, two weeks ago? Lord.”

“Mhm. There’s also been more missing person reports. Someone there is looking for Jeremy, too. Offering food and medicine if we can find it. Guy’s name is Jonathan?”

“Jonathan? Like Jonathan Heere?” Michael perked up. “Dude, that’s his dad! His dad is at the hospital!! I wish it wasn’t so far away. Then we could get over there. It’s definitely safer than here.”

“There’s no way we’d make it eleven miles, Michael. I’m sorry, but unless we found a working car, it’s just not realistic.” Brooke said gently.

“I know. I was just saying.”

“...We could try, though.” Rich looked off into the distance, eyes shining just a bit. “We could try. We could make it, I bet. With all these new guns, we could do it. We’re a bunch of badasses. Hell, I bet we could even find a whole ass bus and truck it all the way to the hospital full of supplies.” He grinned, looking a little manic. “What do you guys think, inspired or what?”

“You’re full of it, Richard.” Brooke huffed, folding up the map. “How would we even lug all our shit out of here?”

“If you leave your stupid bag of money, that saves us a shit ton of space and weight.”

“It could end up being important!!” Brooke bristled, getting defensive. The bag in question was something she was saving just in case the barter system went back to money. In some ways, it was practical to do so, but in others it was just a waste of a good bag. She had filled the thing up to the brim with cash, and it weighed a metric fuck ton. While keeping some money seemed like a good idea, Michael had to agree with Rich, it wasn’t important to bring with. “If I leave the money, you have to leave your gross ass spam book.”

“Listen, spam is going to be taken way less than other stuff because people don’t like it!” Rich snapped. “If we get any, we should know how to at least make it taste okay!”

“We are in the  _ zombie apocalypse _ , Goranski, just eat it out of the can!”

“I have higher standards.”

“I repeat,  _ ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE _ !”

“Guys, you’re going to attract attention we don’t want.” Michael tried to placate the two of them, but they just ended up rounding on him.

“The spam book is more important-”

“Money could come in handy-”

“You have those rocks-”

“Yeah, you carry around rocks-”

“YEAH BUT-” Michael found himself getting pulled into their spat about irrational items, his own being called out. “I use the rocks to stack so we know where we’ve been!”

“Use spray paint! If the rocks get knocked over, then we aren’t going to know anyway!”

“Jeremy was fine with my rock stacks.” Michael stood up, now agitated to action. “He thought they were a good idea.”

Rich scoffed. “Then he was a dumbass.”

The three suddenly went quiet. All of them liked Jeremy, genuinely, and the pain of not knowing where he was made the statement more hurtful.

“I’m sorry, man, I didn’t mean it.” Rich broke the silence with a quiet, contrite statement. “We’ll find him, I promise.”

“I guess.” Michael slowly sat back down. “I guess.”

“Hey, listen, okay, we can keep the rock stacks. The spam loaf book can go. We can eat it out of the can, no recipe required.” Rich sat next to him, trying to joke to make up for his slight.

“And I’ll just bring a few hundreds, no biggie. I have pocket room.” Brooke came up to his other side.

“No, you guys are right. It’s just something I’m…. grasping at. I’m sorry. We can use spray paint. It’s kinda dumb to carry around rocks to stack.”

“If we find rocks we can stack them, hell, we can spray paint the rocks.” Rich nudged Michael with his elbow. “Maybe if we spray paint them red, Jeremy, if he’s around, will see and spay paint some blue. That’s your guys’ thing, right?”

“Yeah.Yeah. Maybe.” Michael sighed. “Maybe.”

“C’mon, let’s stay positive. We can do this.”

“Yeah. Thanks guys.” Michael tried to fix his attitude, for their sake, but them being optimistic about Jeremy made his heart ache. He’d have to tell them, eventually. Not now, but soon.

Jeremy was gone, and there was no use in trying to find him. But he was going to, anyway. He’d given up on him once and been wrong for it. He wasn’t doing it again.

\--

The first thing Jeremy remembered after waking up was the statue of Mary, standing tall over him and casting a shadow across the entire floor. He found it ironic that he was finding sanctuary here, sleeping on the floor of a church. He’d only been to church a few times, dragged there by his great aunt, but that one was different. That one was full of life, and even though he wasn’t christian, he enjoyed coloring in a coloring book instead of paying attention. This one was more like something out of a horror movie. Dark, cold, with statues all around. Mary at the center, with angel statues around. He didn’t  _ like _ the place, not at all, but it seemed to be the easiest place to hide in for the time being. The colorful painted clothes of the angel statues were dulled by a thick layer of dust, and Mary had the same issue going on. He’d thought about cleaning them off, but his arms wouldn’t cooperate. He had little to no voluntary mobility beyond walking around. He couldn’t even speak, just wander around and hope he didn’t run into anyone that would need him to speak to them.

The others didn’t expect that from him; they couldn’t speak, either. In fact, he often wondered if they were as trapped in their own heads as he was. He couldn’t imagine they were, they didn’t seem to make any sort of choices. They just shambled around aimlessly. They ignored him, too. They didn’t care that he walked right past them. Hell, when he started picking them off, they didn’t do anything about it. It was like he didn’t register as a threat.

He guessed other zombies didn’t see each other as a food source.

Jeremy had no explanation for the keeping of his individuality. When he first… died? Turned? Whatever he did. When it first happened, he was terrified. It wasn’t immediate, of course. He got bitten on the leg while looking for some sort of pain killer. Michael had hurt his knee and they needed to be able to move quickly. A pain killer would make that easier, he told himself, and Michael couldn’t come with him. It was too dangerous.

That went about as badly as it could have.

Michael was asleep when he got there, thank god. He had found a small bottle of Ibuprofen, so at least it wasn’t a waste. He wrote a letter for Michael, hid it in his bag, and put the bottle on top of his things. The sleeve of Jeremy’s cardigan that he had used to tie up a cut on Michael’s hand was held tight by Michael, and he had felt tears well up in his eyes. He didn’t want to leave, but he couldn’t risk Michael getting hurt because he wasn’t strong enough to leave.

So he left. By the time he was actually leaving, the bite on his leg was bleeding so badly it was soaking his shoe. He could feel his sight clouding, either from blood loss or the infection setting in. He left as fast as he could manage, stumbling around and being ignored by the zombies like he was spoiled meat. At that point he almost wished they would rip him to pieces, but they didn’t. He felt delirious, even laughing when he passed the No Drone Zone sign. He always found that funny, remembering when Jake flew his drone into a mall door and managing to crack the thing. The place couldn’t sue because of Jake’s parents' money, but they banned drones after that. He shouldn’t have been finding that funny, but everything was swirling and black around the edges. It felt like he was swimming as he floated through the wasteland.

That was when he found the church. He had no concept of time or distance, just that he wanted somewhere to curl up. He felt like an animal wandering off to die. There was no comfort in the church for him, but at least the carpet was soft. He could lie down and suffer as peacefully as he could manage. He thought he passed out soon after that, but he wasn’t sure.

When he woke up, he was numb. He couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t hurt that he couldn’t. Without breath, he couldn’t speak. All that came out was pained wheezing, a sound he was more than familiar with. That was the sound the zombies made.

He was a zombie.

With that realization, his stomach panged. He needed to eat something. The numbness that pervaded the rest of his body made the fact that his stomach ached that much more painful and sharp. He groaned, getting up, and looked at Mary. She looked back, face blank.

He decided that, as uncanny as she was, he would stay in the church. It was empty other than himself, probably due to how uncomfortable it was in there. He also made another decision at that moment. He was not going to eat anyone. There was no way. The fact he could make that choice was more than he had ever expected. He still needed to eat, though.

Unfortunately, due to him still being a little foggy from his recent transformation, he ended up… well… eating his fingers. They were all bone, now, but he ate them. It did help him come to the realization that he could eat zombie flesh and it would sustain him as well as anything else. He regretted the state of his fingers, even now, a year later. Zombies tasted disgusting, but they filled his stomach and he was not going to be a murderer.

He had to admit, too, that he wished he was with Michael. That was his best friend, and he missed him terribly. He managed to make some rock stacks outside of the church, but his limited mobility made it difficult to get them taller than two rocks. The face he had no flesh covering the bones of his fingers didn’t help. He just wanted to put up a flag, that he was here, that he was waiting. 

Time made it easier to fall into routine. Wake up on a pew, attempt to clean things up and fail, look for food (human food, he was getting quite the collection of good canned foods), then look for something to eat (any zombie unfortunate enough to wander near him), get back to the church, hide the food, sleep on a pew. Rinse and repeat. It wasn’t a comfortable life, or un-death, or whatever it was, but he was making it work. 

There was something in the air, today. Something weird. He got the feeling that something was going to happen, but chalked it up to an incoming storm. Rain always washed up weird things, especially heavy rain. He was hoping maybe it would float some materials his way. Since he didn’t have to worry about temperature or illness, he could dig around in any puddles he wanted to, even if it seemed gross. He couldn’t smell himself, thank god, but he knew he smelled terrible. Maybe, if it rained, he’d go stand in it to wash himself off. He needed it.

Despite his odd feeling, Jeremy decided to keep to his schedule. Routine kept his life together, so he may as well keep it going, regardless of what was happening around him. He marched himself right out of the church and started his way up towards the heavily infested area. More zombies meant more supplies and more to eat, simple as that. Humans wouldn’t risk going into places where there might be hoards of twenty five or more. Jeremy had seen hoards in the area get as big as forty four, before he picked off a few and others just wandered off. It fluctuated pretty routinely, and much to Jeremy’s horror, humans didn’t seem to pick up on that. They would run in and end up dead because they didn’t pay attention to the fluctuations. If there were a lot of zombies this week, then next week there would be less. But he supposed that if anyone who went in when there were more didn’t make it out, there would be no point of reference for those who made it through when there were less.

As he pondered this, he heard something that made him stop in his tracks.

Humans, talking to each other.

His stomach dropped. He had had little to no direct communication with humans in the last year, mostly to avoid being shot or the risk of their smell being too much for him, and he wasn’t too keen on changing that. He ducked as fast as his body would let him behind an overturned truck and peeked over the edge, watching to see who was coming through. This was a suicide mission. It was peak time for big hoards, they should be inside, not trying to make it past. He tried to see who was walking around the corner, but his eyes were so cloudy they looked like moving blobs of color. It was the sharpening of their voices that ended up shocking him. They spoke in hushed tones, but still loud enough for him to make out what they were saying.

“This way.” A lilting female voice whispered. The blob in front moved to point ahead.

“Are you sure? I don’t think that’s right.”

“Since when can you read maps, Rich?”

Rich? That sounded like the Rich he knew, but he couldn’t be sure. He tried to think, but his brain was so muddled all the time, actively trying to recall things made him feel like he was trying to swim through wet concrete. It just wasn’t productive. He was pretty sure that was the case, though. That this was Rich Goranski. Then who was he with? The other voice was familiar, too. Who was that? Someone he knew, definitely. That was without a doubt. But he couldn’t place her. 

“Guys, we gotta quiet down.”

Jeremy had to bite his lip to stop himself from making a sound. If he had, they would freak out, he knew that much. Hearing a zombie growl in the distance was horrifying, he’d been through that himself. He knew. But hearing that voice, he could barely contain himself.

It was Michael.

It was  _ Michael _ .

He brought his hands up to his mouth and started gnawing on his bare fingers, trying to think what he could do. How could he talk to Michael without freaking him out? How could he let him know that he was here, that he wouldn’t hurt him? How could he-

“Did you hear that?” There was sudden silence, and then a tell-tale sound that shook Jeremy to his core. Shuffling feet. And growling.

_ The Hoard. _

The group had obviously heard it too, as they were scrambling to get their guns ready and protect themselves. But three humans against forty zombies? There was no way they were getting out alive. No way.

Jeremy couldn’t stand for that.

Before he could let himself over think what he was about to do, he rushed out of his hiding place. His legs were filled with a life he didn’t think he had anymore, making him run in a steady way that he couldn’t even manage when he was still alive. The hoard was making its way towards the group and they had begun to take shots at them. The faster zombies jolted forward, and while most of them were taken out, the girl missed her shot and it vaulted at her. In that moment, he recognized her. Brooke. 

Jeremy snarled and bowled over the zombie right before it made contact with her. He immediately went to work, tearing the thing to pieces with his teeth. The gunshots continued behind him, and as soon as he finished ripping and tearing, he was onto the next one. He wasn’t going to let his friends get hurt.

Over his dead body.

\--

Michael was beginning to get a bad feeling. It was  _ not _ a good day to be doing this. They had decided to sleep on the whole moving thing, and eventually they agreed to do it. Michael just wished they hadn’t chosen today.

Today was the year anniversary of Jeremy leaving, and he wasn’t feeling up to doing  _ anything _ , let alone leaving the place he and Jeremy had found together. He was barely able to keep it together as they packed up everything; The rocks, the money, the cookbook. They didn’t give each other a hard time. As long as they carried their own weight, they left well enough alone.

The day was overcast and grey. Days weren’t always like that, contrary to what movies tended to show. Some days it was so bright and shiny out that Michael felt like the weather was mocking the terrible conditions they were suffering in. Today, however, reflected the way he felt. Dreary, dark, and sad.

The beginning of their trek was fine. They checked in at the No Drone Zone sign, and marked where they came from in a way they’d understand without it being obvious for raiders to track them down. They had only seen a couple zombies, which they were able to dispatch quickly and without fanfare. It was almost too easy, which put them all on edge. They were right to be, too, as when they came upon a crashed tractor trailer, they were forced to go around into an even more heavily infested area than they had planned to. It was known to have hoards, and wasn’t recommended for even large, tough groups with vehicles. Enough zombies could flip a car and peel the metal open like a sardine can. They saw some cars in that heavy of a state of disarray, but they kept going. There was an unspoken agreement between the three of them that at this point, now that they were all packed up, there was no point in going back. They needed to move forward and hope for the best. Michael, especially, wanted to get to the hospital. If they got tested for the virus and came back clean, they’d be allowed in, and he could finally see his mothers again. Hell, from what it sounded like, he might even get to see Mr. Heere. Tell him what happened to Jeremy, maybe even give him the cardigan shred. It was the least he could do.

Brooke and Rich began to argue, as they had a tendency to, and were getting pretty loud much to Michael’s dismay. He tried to interrupt, but by then the damage of their volume had been done. The shuffling, shambling sound of the feel of many was growing louder, along with the growling of rotted out vocal chords trying to speak.

They were so fucked. They were so  _ royally _ fucked.

Rich was the first to get out his weapon, as usual, taking down three almost immediately. This set the rest onto them as it revealed their location. Michael wanted to yell at him for giving them away prematurely, but that wasn’t important at the moment. He got out his own gun and started shooting. Brooke followed suit, taking out one but missing the one closest to her. She was never a good shot (not that Michael was much better) as her talents lied in other places. The zombie was rushing towards her, and Michael was just about to shoot it when a blur of blue and gray shot past him and onto the zombie. The black, fetid blood of the thing splattered everywhere as whoever or whatever had tackled it ripped it limb from limb. He had no time to be concerned with it, there were too many zombies approaching, but he willed his gratitude towards it in hopes it could sense his appreciation. Brooke seemed to feel the same way, but vocalized it.

“Fuck him up!!! Thank you!” She screamed, taking a knife out and starting on the slower zombies. She may have been bad with a gun, but she was like a whirlwind with a blade, taking out zombies' jaws and eyes, cutting tendons and rendering them immobile. The thing that was tearing the other zombie apart started making its way through the hoard, mutilating any zombie that got near it. The proximity seemed to be mostly incidental, which struck Michael as weird. They didn’t go for this animal of a person, in fact, they seemed to ignore them (Michael had finally been able to appraise them as human) completely. He didn’t worry about it, though. He just shot down some more zombies. Rich ran out of bullets, but instead of reloading, he took out his gross spam book and slammed it into a zombie’s face. It was quicker than fucking around with the barrel, and it did the work just as well. Good riddance to it. After that he had enough time to reload, but Michael filed away the event as something to laugh about later.

As the hoard thinned, and he actively thought about there being a “later”, he realized; They were probably going to survive this. They were going to make it through the hoard, all three of them, thanks to this stranger who decided to take a hands on approach to zombie killing. He found himself laughing hysterically at this, still shooting. They were going to live, they were going to make it! Hell fucking yeah!

By the time everything cleared, Michael, Rich, and Brooke stood in the middle of a battlefield of carnage. They were victorious, for now. They were safe. 

“Where’d that guy go?” Brooke asked, panting and covered in black sludge. She tried to wipe some off of her cheek, but only managed to smear it more. “I wanted to thank them, maybe give them a can of ravioli.”

Rich picked up his now soaked and unreadable cookbook. He tried to flip through it, but the pages were one squishy mess. He tossed it to the side. “I have no clue, but they were hardcore. Ripping into a zombie like that, bare handed? That’s next level, man.”

“Yeah, wow.” Michael looked around. He hadn’t gotten a good look at them, but he had enough of a view to know none of the bodies surrounding them were their mystery hero. “They must have just left. Maybe they were afraid we were raiders, but didn’t want us to die. Like, morally couldn’t let us get killed but still thought we’d steal their stuff?”

“Maybe. I know I’d do that.” Brooke used her shirt to clean her blade before putting it back into its sheath. “I wouldn’t want anyone to have to suffer at the hands of zombies, even if they, like, totally suck as a person. It’s an awful way to go.”

“Good samaritan isn’t the role to play in the apocalypse, just saying.” Rich rolled his eyes. “It really isn’t. Why get killed for someone you don’t even know?” 

“I suppose?” Brooke frowned. “You can be a good person, even when stuff is tough.”

“This isn’t tough, it’s life or death. I’m sorry, but outside of you two, I’d let the poor suckers die. It’s nothing personal, I’m just not willing to put my life on the line if it doesn’t benefit me.”

“Wooooow, real nice of you.” Brooke said sarcastically. 

Michael sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Can we just find somewhere to stay the night? It's getting darker and darker and I’m terrified it’s going to rain.”

Rich huffed, arms crossed, but seemed to relent. “Fine, fine. Okay. Sorry, Brooke. You’re a better person than I am.”

Brooke seemed surprised at the apology, but looked sheepish. “And you’re just being practical. I’m sorry, too.”

“Okay, we're all friends again? Good. Let’s go before we get rained on.” Michael started hustling them along. They were in uncharted territory and staying in one place for too long was dangerous. They needed shelter, and soon. This thought was punctuated with the unmistakable sound of thunder in the distance, spooking all of them. It was enough to get them moving. Hopefully they’d beat the storm.

\--

Jeremy felt like his heart had started beating again. It was like his body had kicked into motion for the first time in months. He felt alive. Seeing his friends had filled his veins with electricity, like he was a monster and they were Dr. Frakenstien.

The idea of it was borderline romantic at it’s conception, but the implications sunk in as soon as he walked into the church yard. The tower loomed over him, and it made him realize; he was still a zombie. Maybe, for a moment, he felt like everything could be normal again, but that couldn’t happen. He was a monster, through and through. There was nothing he could do about that. He would terrify them, they would hate him. Michael would hate him, hate him for abandoning him again, hate him for leaving. And he deserved it, deserved to be hated. He walked into the church, down the aisle to his place below Mary and the angels. They stared at him, like they were repeating what he’d already thought. 

He was a monster.

With that, the first of the lightning struck, lighting the church up in stark contrast. Jeremy yelped, a strangled sound, and with his newfound speed hid himself behind the pulpit. He hunkered down, looking at his hands. His hands, that were more bone than flesh anymore. His hands that protected his friends despite their state. His hands, that he couldn’t feel.

As far as Jeremy’s unfeeling skin could tell, the water on his face’s source was a hole in the ceiling, not his eyes at the anguish of his realization. 

\--

Michael thought it was good fortune that they’d happened upon the church. It felt a little sacrilegious to break in, but at this point anything was fair game. When the world was hell. It was the least the church could do; provide shelter to those in need. To be fair, before all this happened, some of them didn’t even do that. 

Rich immediately took off his shirt, shaking it out. Brooke watched him for a second, before doing the same. Michael, who a year and a half ago would have been uncomfortable and embarrassed, just took their lead. They were completely soaked to the bone, but it was dry in the church. Some of the windows had curtains over stained glass, so Michael didn’t hesitate to take them down and use them to dry off. 

“Man, this storm is wicked.” Rich sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if assessing the sky. “Worst one in a while.”

“You sound like a dad.” Brooke teased. Rich laughed, plopping down in a pew.

“Maybe so!”

“.....Le……..eee……..avvvvvvvvvvvvvvve….”

What.

The fuck.

Was that.

All three of them tensed, looking towards the front of the church and ready to fight or run if needed. All that was there was a huge statue of Mary, with angels flanking her. The voice, raspy but somehow still notably tenor, echoed through the church like a ghost.

“...Leeeeeeeeavvvee…..!” It was more insistent this time. 

“What the hell…” Rich muttered. “Haven’t we been through enough today?”

“Um, hello? I’m sorry, it’s storming and we needed a place to stay for the night, please-” Brooke used her best “damsel in distress” voice. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, but was more than willing to use what she could to be persuasive if the situation called for it. 

The voice was unimpressed, getting even louder. “LLEEEAAAAAVVVVVVVVEEEEEE!!!! GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” It wailed, and two bony hands appeared on either side of the top of the pulpit. 

“HOLY FUCK A GHOST!!” Rich screamed, then pulled out his gun and shot at the pulpit. The bullets splintered the cheap wood, leaving clear holes. 

“Oooowwwwwww….” The hands fell. “Owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww….”

“That might be a hurt human, Rich!” Brooke ran up, but with her knife in hand. She wasn’t so careless to run up unprepared. She disappeared behind the pulpit, then her ear-piercing scream rang through the chapel. Rich and Michael immediately dashed up after her, ready to deal with whatever caused her such distress.

\--

Jeremy was trying to mourn in peace when he heard his friends enter the church. It just added insult to injury, the voices of the people he knew would never accept him again having a casual conversation in his hideaway. He couldn’t stand it, it hurt too much. 

It wasn’t a good decision, hell, he wasn’t even sure where he even came up with the idea, but in his distress he whacked himself in the stomach. It caused it to contract, but when it bounced back, his lungs actually pulled in air. With this little bit of air he was able to form a word, the first word he’d said in an entire year.

“.....Le……..eee……..avvvvvvvvvvvvvvve….”

There was a beat of shock, not only from his friends but from himself as well. He didn't want to do this, he wanted them with him, he wanted to talk to Michael again. He wanted a hug, more than anything. A tender touch of some kind. It was such a small gesture, but any sort of interaction had become something he craved.

Well, people always wanted what they couldn’t have.

“...Leeeeeeeeavvvee…..!” He was practically begging. He couldn’t take this, it was like torture.

Rich made some sort of comment he couldn’t hear, then Brooke spoke. The soft pleading just made him feel worse.

“Um, hello? I’m sorry, it’s storming and we needed a place to stay for the night, please-” 

“LLEEEAAAAAVVVVVVVVEEEEEE!!!!” Why were they doing this to him? Why did he have to face this? Why couldn’t they just leave? Knowing they were safe was enough for him to cope, he didn’t want them to see him like this. Rich and Brooke might be horrified, and Michael…. Knowing Michael as well as he did, he may never recover. He knew he would hate to see Michael in a similar state. The pain in his voice as he yelled to them was practically tangible. “GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” He grabbed the edges of the pulpit to force himself to stay in place. He was barely keeping himself back from sobbing with his newly discovered voice.

“HOLY FUCK A GHOST!!” Rich’s exclamation was all the warning he got before the sound of a gun going off deafened his ears and he felt bullets hit his chest. Even if he had his voice, even if he had his movement, he still wasn’t human. He felt them get lodged in his flesh, and black blood dripped down his chest and onto his stomach. It didn’t hurt beyond a dull ache, but even that was more than he could usually feel. He was able to express his pain verbally now, too, and he did so with a low moan of “ow” as he fell back onto the ground.

The next few seconds were blurry, a mix of loud noises, trying to figure out why his head was spinning if he wasn’t actually bleeding. He wasn’t hit in the head, that’s the only thing that would have actually killed him for a second time. So why was everything so…. Weird?

He recognized that Brooke was standing over him, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Brrr….” He gurgled, then spat up black all over his own face. He coughed, but they weren’t productive at clearing his airway, just producing more disgusting liquid. “...oooo….”

That’s when Rich and Michael appeared, at his otherside. Rich was touching him, he thought, and he could just barely hear him before he backed away, hands covered in his blood. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry!”

“Hey, buddy, it’s okay, hey, look at me.” Michael was next to his head. He thought he was talking to Rich at first, but then they made eye contact. Jeremy raised a weak hand up, trying to touch his friend. Michael took his hand, and Jeremy almost laughed at the barely veiled disgust on his face at touching his bare bones.

“So….. rry….” Jeremy managed.

“No, no, no, Jeremy, no, don’t be. Oh my god, I’m so glad to see you.”

Really? Was he? That wasn’t expected, not in the least. Jeremy closed his eyes, thinking about that. He was always such a catastrophizer. Michael was glad to see him, even if he wasn’t human anymore. Of course he was, the optimist; With that thought, Jeremy smiled just a little and let himself fade to black. The knowledge was enough to make him feel… okay.

\--

Jeremy didn’t wake up for… well, he didn’t know how long. But when he did, his chest and hands were completely wrapped up in bandages. They were clean, too; bleach white and freshly put on. Someone had been changing his dressings. He tried to sit up, but his mobility from the fight had been drained from his body. He took a second to feel his body. Everything felt like… faint buzzing. Like they were there, but also not really. If before they were completely numb, now they just felt like he’d been lying on them too long, like they were asleep. With this sort of half feeling, he could also feel his gunshot wounds in his chest, and even worse, his peeled fingers. It was uncomfortable, and Jeremy was grateful he couldn’t feel more of it. He couldn’t imagine the pain he’d be in otherwise.

“You awake, dude?” Michael said, suddenly appearing above Jeremy and smiling widely.

“Hhhuhhhhhhh?” Was all that Jeremy could respond with. “Hhrn.”

“I’ll take that as yes.” Michael plopped on the pew at Jeremy’s head, leaning over him a little to talk. “Man, you cannot  _ imagine _ how excited I am to see you. It took me so long to convince Brooke and Rich to let me patch you up. Y’know. Cause you look like…” He sucked air in through his teeth.

“Zooooom.” Jeremy provided. “Zooooooommmbbb…..” He furrowed his brows, annoyed at his inability to force the word out.

“Don’t hurt yourself, buddy. I’m curious, though. How are you able to speak at all? We gave you a proper look over after we initially bandaged you up and…. You definitely were bitten. How are you… y’know. Talking sorta, and aware of stuff. I mean, you kinda sorta name dropped Brooke and I, so you obviously recognize who we are. Zombies are usually completely humanity and memory free. Like, how are you still mentally aware? Is it like  _ Warm Bodies _ ? Or is it like-” Michael was rambling, and Jeremy couldn’t be happier than to just sit there and listen to him go on. He didn’t have the words to answer him, and for some of the questions he didn’t have an answer either. Why did he, specifically, resist the loss of his mind when so many others didn’t? 

“-hypothesis is that because of the Squip, your brain is like… reinforced. Rich thinks I’m full of it, though.” Michael finished his little speal. “You probably can’t respond very well, huh?”

“Nn.” Jeremy made what he hoped translated as an apologetic expression.

“I didn’t think so. But I think we should bring you to the hospital. Maybe it’s a gene thing, antibodies. They can take some of your nasty ass blood and figure that out.”

“Mmmm.” 

“I mean, you seem to have enough extra. Thank god it was raining, we were able to wash all the clothes. They’re up drying right now, so you’re kinda whole ass naked. Sorry dude.”

“Ick.” Jeremy smiled a little. “Ick.”

“Rich is the only one of us who hadn’t seen your dick yet. It’s a right of passage at this point.” Michael nudged Jeremy’s shoulder gently. “Everyone has to see your dick if you’re  _ really _ friends.”

“Ick.” Jeremy just repeated, and he smiled wider when it made Michael laugh. After being so emo, being able to just sit with him was more than he could have hoped for.

“Dude, for a zombie you are fuckin’ hilarious.”

“Nyeh.” Jeremy shrugged as well as he could.

“I should tell Brooke and Rich you’re actually awake, though. Do you want anything to eat? Is it insensitive to ask?”

Jeremy lifted his hand and pointed up to the choir seating area. “Caans. Pppiiineabbb….”

“You have cans?” Michael jumped up. “Can we take some?”

“Yah.”

“Oh fuck yeah.” He went up to where Jeremy was keeping his stockpile, and gasped. “How much do you  _ have _ ? Okay, so you wanted pineapple? I’ll get you a pineapple one and… Oh dude. There is spam up here. Can I use it to harass Rich? He was carrying around this fucking spam loaf book but he finally trashed it. He’s gonna be so pissed.”

Jeremy made a wheezy sound that was halfway between a laugh and a cough, but by Michael’s reaction it got the point across.

“I’ll open the can up and feed you before I get to harassing.” Michael promised, sauntering back down to where Jeremy was. He got out a pocket can opener and opened up the can for him. “I don’t have any forks, do you mind if I use my fingers and drop the chunks in? Don’t wanna risk getting infected because you get a little too enthusiastic about munching some pineapple.”

Jeremy made a noncommittal noise, then opened his mouth. Michael did exactly what he said he was going to do; dropping chunks into Jeremy’s mouth and letting him chew them before he gave him another piece. Jeremy liked pineapple, it tasted good, but it did nothing to make him feel full. He wasn’t about to tell Michael to go out and get him zombie flesh, though. Hell no. Common sense told him he was already on thin ice with the other two, and asking for meat might make them freak out. He knew he would be if the roles were reversed. Until he could get out by himself, he’d just subsist on pineapple and attention, he supposed. Seeing the way Michael looked at him… Maybe he could manage that.

“Dude, your face is turning a weird color. Are you okay?” Michael poked his cheek.

“Ahh??” Jeremy got even more flustered. Was he blushing? What would blushing even look like with black blood and greyish skin?

“Yeah, it’s kinda funky looking. Are you good though?”

“Yah.” Jeremy quickly turned his head, trying to hide it. Oh god.

“If you say so. If anything hurts or is uncomfortable, just make a noise and I’ll come fix whatever’s wrong, okay?” Michael ran a hand through Jeremy’s hair before standing, stretching, and disappearing into the other room, leaving Jeremy by himself to process his feelings about the interaction. He felt like his head was warm from where Michael touched it oh so tenderly. It made his heart race. Figuratively, of course, but the sentiment was still there. Jeremy mulled it over, wondering what the next steps were. If they let him stay with them, well, he was certainly an expert at killing zombies, and he didn’t  _ have _ to sleep, at least not frequently. He could protect them. And Michael  _ had  _ mentioned something about bringing him to the hospital to see why he was so resilient against the zombie virus. Now that he had humans with him who could actually speak and explain the situation, he could help people. His blood, or his experience with the squip, whatever; if he could save people from becoming zombies, or even change them back, he would be overjoyed to do so.

He stood by how he felt before; he was done being selfish.

That being said, he wondered what could be done about the necrosis of his body. His hands were his biggest concern, especially now that he was able to feel the pain just a little. If the pain continued, or worsened, what would he do? He didn’t want to get addicted to painkillers, but if he needed them to function he’d do what he had to. He was formulating a future in his head. He had genuine hope.

Man, today had been a certified emotional rollercoaster. Crying, running, speaking, it was like he was human again. And honestly? He couldn’t be happier about it.

\--

Having Jeremy back was… good. Michael didn’t know how else to put it. Yeah, his friend was a zombie, which sucked. But he had him back. On the anniversary of his leaving, too. Of all days, this one. Ironic, but he wasn’t complaining.

The letter had been telling the truth. Jeremy had been bitten, he was leaving, all that was the truth. Not that Michael thought it was full of lies, he just made note of the verification. When he and his companions stripped Jeremy down to dress his wounds, the bloody footprint was given an explanation, too; Jeremy’s bite, which hadn’t healed over in the year since it had occurred, was on his calf. The blood must have covered his shoe and caused the print he had found. These little facts were giving Michael the closure he had craved, while also not really giving him closure at all. Even if he knew what happened, it didn’t matter if he sleuthed them out. Now, he could just ask. Sit with his best friend and hear about all the terrible things that happened to him. He could comfort his friend, not just need comfort. Jeremy was as alive as one could hope for post-zombie bite, and Michael was happy for that.

For him, it went without saying and without thought that Jeremy was going to stay with them and they were going to take care of him. He was an anomaly, on top of being their friends. While Rich was horrified about hurting him, he was less convinced. Brooke even refused to come near after the initial shock. He supposed that was the smart thing to do. He was a zombie still, and even if he attempted to say their names, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t attack them when he woke up. Michael didn’t think that was the case, though. He was convinced that not only was Jeremy present enough to act as normally as he could, but that he was also the person who had helped them in the hoard. It made sense that that was Jeremy. It just did.

Seeing Jeremy again did bring up one issue. Something that had been in the letter, a confession of sorts. It was sort of vague, but it definitely left Michael feeling… conflicted. On one hand, it was supposed to be the confession of a dying man. Something that was said because Jeremy would never be able to say anything else to him. On the other, now that they were together, they could discuss it. Michael could have it clarified, what Jeremy was trying to say. What he really meant.

_ I wanted… Well, I wanted a lot of things for us _

What did he want? They could have just about anything, now. He wanted to ask about it, but when push came to shove and Jeremy woke up, well… He just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He just let it be and walked away, something he was well practiced in doing.

He hadn’t always liked Jeremy like that. His moms often joked that Jeremy was his gay awakening, but that wasn’t true. He had genuinely liked Jeremy as just a friend until after the incident involving the squip. Not that that was what brought him around, no, it was the growth that happened afterwards that made him fall for Jeremy. He’d always thought of him as a cool friend, but seeing how much more empathetic he’d become, how he seemed to treat everyone with more care. It made feelings he didn’t think he had come to the surface.

But then shit happened and everything was fucked over.

He was rubbing his temples when he walked into the other room, sitting himself with Brooke and Rich. He’d proposed the cure idea to them, and they both seemed interested in it. The issue was getting Jeremy to the hospital without him being recognized as a zombie. Wrapping his hands with the bandages helped quite a bit, but it wasn’t enough. He had an abrasion on his mouth that obviously was infected with the zombie necrosis, and he couldn’t speak more than a word or two at a time. They could always say he couldn’t speak english, but the abrasion...

“So, is he up?” Rich looked up at him, head tilted.

“Yeah, uh, he told me where his food stash was and I got him some pineapple. Grabbed this for you.” Michael tossed him the can of spam.

“Fuck you, dude! I lost my book!” Rich whined. “Fucking-”

Brooke broke out laughing, so hysterically that tears started coming to her eyes. They kept going for a while, just having a good time.

“Awwww man, that was so funny. Jesus. I, uh, I came up with an idea to get Jeremy to the hospital.” Brooke grinned, holding up a box of surgical masks. “We could wear these, all of us, so it isn’t sketchy. We can just say we were avoiding dust or something. Then we can explain! Plus, plus, plus!! I brought my money bag and they said on the radio that they  _ still take money at the hospital! _ ” Brooke pulled that out, too, holding it up triumphantly.

“So the money bag has a use, and my spam book  _ would have _ if I still had it.” Rich pouted, tossing the can of spam to the side.

This sent the three back into fits of laughter. Things were really good, it was weird. 

But it  _ was _ good.

\--

Jeremy was trying to decide how he felt about this. His hands were covered in bandages, his face was covered in a mask, and he was carrying a backpack full of cans. Michael was walking at his side, gently leading him forward into the waste. They were holding hands loosely, Michael in front, and Jeremy was happy about that. He had to stay quiet, to hide the weird sounds he made when he spoke, but otherwise they were fine. He was excited to get to the hospital. His dad was there, apparently, and Jeremy almost cried when he learned that. Brooke and Rich gave him a bit of a wide berth, but they were still friendly enough to him. He himself only ate at night, when they were asleep. Michael didn’t ask questions when Jeremy gestured to wander off. Even so, his hunger for flesh was decreasing, as well. He could go longer, with the canned food actually helping with his hunger now. It was almost like he was weaning off.

Jeremy squeezed Michael’s hand, and Michael turned back to give him a slight smile. He couldn’t see his mouth behind the mask, but his eyes showed the smile just as well as his mouth did. Jeremy blushed, something he was able to do recently much to his chagrin. Not blushing was better than blushing, because when Jeremy blushed he blushed hard. And Michael wouldn’t let it go when it happened. It led to lots of teasing, and Jeremy hated it.

Well, he hated it a little. The razzing made him feel at home, too. It was normal. It also helped with the thoughts he had. The stupid, gay thoughts. The thoughts where he was human again and Michael would hold him. Or sometimes… he was still a zombie, but Michael would pull him to the side and kiss him, even with their masks in the way. It was a little dumb, to kiss with surgical masks on, but it was romantic! Kind of! 

Jeremy was not known for having the most sensical fantasies! It was the stupidest shit but he could think about kissing with masks on if he wanted! Hell, it was more sanitary considering his spit could theoretically transform Michael into a zombie. It was at least practical.

Kinda.

He needed to stop zoning out when they were walking, because now they were talking and he wasn’t listening at all. He had no idea what they were talking about but he was certainly going to pretend that he did.

“We’re gonna be there soon. You ready, Jeremy?” Rich gave him a nod.

“Uh. Yah.” Jeremy responded with a nod back. “Yah.”

“Good.” Michael gave Jeremy a pat on the back. “I’m ready to get there, too. I wanna see my moms, dude!”

“Hell yeah.” Brooke gave them a thumbs up.

“Let’s do this, then.”

“Yah!” Jeremy bounced. “Yah!”

“Yeah! Yeah!” Michael did the same.

And with that, they continued. Maybe they could fix things. 

Maybe.


End file.
